Carabar has a great open mic. I arrive early on Sunday and tell Ron that he still owes me a shit-ton of beer and a 3-round boxing match for charity. I have grown a mustache. I pretend that I am a member of Queen. I talk about art school and comic books. I bring a guitar that I built myself and sounds like shit. I like the way it sounds. I wear a t-shirt that is two sizes too small (a Joan Jett or Donnie Iris tour t-shirt if I can find one), a huge pair of my girlfriend's shades and her skinny jeans. I ride in on a bicycle or skateboard with my own 6-pack of Bud Dry and my great sweaty crack on display. I play "Daniel" by Elton John and demand to be paid. I tell them that I have so much soul I just don't know what to do. At the very least they should comp my beers. I proudly let them know that I can play Guns n' Roses, Queensryche, Twisted Sister, Kiss, Black Sabbath, Hendrix, Clapton, (all that shit, man)...but I am into Debussy, Wagner, The National and Daniel Johnston.

If they give me a hard time I do the same thing on Monday night. If I am not recognized I leave in obscurity and misery, write a very long letter to the editor and give them a bad review on city search or some shit. If things turn really sour by all means I take down that hideous onstage American flag. It has been begging for me to set it on fire for years.